1186

Magic Forest

A magic forest, so I looked for You

In the Serpent's  Nest and Mystic Pond

The Indian Totem and the forest view;

But it seemed that You were far beyond

These tricks, which made me feel the You were there;

For all I found, thought pleasant, was the art

Of conjuring the surreal from the air

When all the time, You kept from me apart.

Deep in the woods the deer cropped unconcerned,

The peacocks lurked for snacks by picnic tables,

Sheep rambled the vineyards, while I yearned

To find You in the midst of ancient fables.

Then I heard you laugh - Can you not see

That everything you look upon - is Me.

Brian Hick July 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 17.6.24

                                             Norfolk Coast Path

                                          Wednesday

                                     Cold and overcast

                               But today's rain comes as a 

                                      Blessing from BVM.

To Walsingham, the No29 goes all the way

But guided tours are off until late June, so we must pay

To show ourselves around the Abbey grounds and holy wells

Though cut our visit short as icy rain returns in squalls

Preferring coffee in the shrine cafe, or visit to

The Shrine Museum, the court and cells, for undesirables who

Got extra time for looking around, for whistling or singing

Whilst those who did far naughtier things are sent on via the shipping.

Soup, back in the shrine cafe, before we make a start

To walk round the Rosary Way which lies at the heart

Of Pilrimage to Walsingham - a journey for the mind

To focus ever more upon the mysteries, to find

A new way through the Labyrinth of emotions which entwine

Our seeking for the spiritual, our sense of the divine

Until within the Holy House we know that we have come

Not to an end but to a place where new quests are begun

For this place is a vehicle, a means of moving on,

A start of possibilities for life once we have gone

Back to our normalities, our families, our friends,

Where love and mercy daily find that giving never ends

And shrines, however beautiful, however filled with prayer,

Are dangerous if we come to believe that only there

Can we fulfil our purposes, experience true worth

When all the time, where're we are, we've all the gifts of earth.

The Albatros is open so we dine

On pancakes, beer and Scrabble until nine.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 16.4.24

 992

St Catherine's Oratory survived

            The reformation's crushing blows

            Because its high position shows

The way to ships up from St Ives,

And through the years the spinster band

            Has wheezed its way there in the hope

            Of matrimony - while the Pope

Was happy for the cash in hand.

But cynicism can't explain

            The answered prayers, the renewed hope

            Which many found within the scope

Of simple faith's eternal gain

And even if St Catherine's story

            Cannot stand the test of time

            She waits, a martyr in the line

Of meditation's mystery.

From the Abbey Church below

            The walk's enough to clear the mind

            Towards - well, if not god-inclined -

At least to thought that starts to show

Awareness, sensitivity

            To more than money, sex or food

            And all that is grotesque and lewd

In daily life's insanity.

The oratory's stone edifice

            Stands empty, yet, restored for use

            And worship, freed from the abuse

Of doctrine or the casual tourist,

Shines a light for those who come

            In search of meaning for today

            Letting silence show the way

To truth, as it has ever done.

Brian Hick August 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 15.9.23

 942

Psalm

An empty church; a quiet afternoon.

I sit and read some chapters of Isaiah

But cannot concentrate, for all too soon

My mind drifts off from texts that don't inspire

To thoughts of you, in hope you will appear.

Silence creeps around me but the mass

Of clashing words within my head shear

Away the hope of any lasting peace -

A war unheard but raging even here.

Must I ever fight to find the balm

That heals this deepening wound, this lingering snare

Which eats away my soul destroying calm?

Oh for a touch, a hint that you will come

And rescue me from what I have become.

Brian Hick May 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 26.5.23

 911

If I accept that I can never know

Any more than this small human brain,

With its hardwired synaptic flow,

Can compass in the brief years that remain,

How on earth can I make sense of you

Who saturate my soul and fill my heart

With joy, beyond my meagre means to show,

And love's uncomprehended, enearned dart?

Words alone can only go so far

Confusing at the instant that they reach

A willing ear, where cold semantics jar

The mind, searching beyond what words might teach

          And all the while the universe runs on

          In conscious hope, as when it first begun.

Brian Hick March 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 17.3.23

 909

You are the elsewhere that has come to me

The un-thought thought, unreasonable rhyme,

Sudden unexpected inspriration,

Illogically divorced from place and time;

And yet you sing to me of chance perfection,

Of hope that goes beyond the written word

Turning all our plans and expectations

Into a dream which laughs at the absurd.

Why would I want to pin down this elation

With law and ritual meanly devised

By narrow-minded human misconception

Of all that is, because it's not espied

By scientific means or interception,

When all I need is streaming from the skies?

Brian Hick March 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 13.3.23

 893

Now I need no words to speak to you

Writing this seems somewhat out of line

But being human, even though I see through

Ther verbage, I need to take my time

Moving away from what I thought I've known,

Even if I abondoned it erstwhile

As infantile fantasy, hoping that I'd grown

Out of comfortable habits which beguile

But simply cannot pass the acid test,

The rational and scientific stare,

Which easily dismisses any quest

For actual answers to a well aimed prayer;

          But then, of course, prayer's just pie-in-the-sky

          To those who have not taught their souls to fly.

Brian Hick Feb 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 27.1.23

 892

Enfolded in Love

At last I can address you as my God

Without concern, for we know what we mean,

I feel no need to struggle or explain

What lies beyond mere words, which may seem odd

To intellectuals or those who insist

On disecting life up to the point

Where it has vanished and dismembered joints

Lie bleeding, meaningless, for they have missed

The beauty of the whole which was far more

Than simply an enlisting of its parts

And all scientific tools and arts

Cannot encompass that which I adore.

          I looked for you, but looked in the wrong place,

          Until you caught me up in Love's embrace.

Brian Hick February 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 26.1.23

 891

Light the fire; we need to warm our souls.

Build up the blaze until it roars with light

And all the world's consumed with glorious coals.

Light the fire.

Watch carefully and tend it through the night

Feeding it with kindness which cajoles

Reluctant boughs to turn themselves to bright

Beacons of renewal where the goals

Are crystal clear for all who would unite

To face a world of obstinate black holes.

Light the fire.

Brian Hick 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 23.1.23

 884

What faith has a marshmallow?

I really need to know.

For what you say

May seem okay

Until we need to grow

And challenge what we're doing

Reach out beyond the safe

To find the Way

That brings today

Beyond the crass naif.

I need a faith that's vibrant

That pulses with the blood

To scorch the air

Without a care

And know that life is good.

I feel it in the music

That echoes from the spheres

Or in the night

Peels with its light

Invisible and rare.

I feel it in the dancing

Of folk  upon the Downs

The Morris Teams

The distant dreams

Of rituals profound.

I feel it in the silence,

The sunlight on the sea

Where amber clouds

Of evening shroud

The cliff tops and the quay.

I feel - but there is more

To life than what I feel;

My inner voice

Cries out rejoice

Regardless of the 'real'.

Reach out to the transcendent

Reach out beyond the spheres

To truth that is resplendent

Out-weighing human tears.

Brian Hick January 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 9.1.23

880

The Light of Life has come into the world;

I feel it in the darkness of my heart

Battered by the stress which night has hurled.

The Light of Life

Has ever known that every frozen part

Of body, mind and soul will in time yield

Before the Love that's been there from the start

Acknowledging I have no strength to shield

My reason from depression's vicious dart

And will accept with joy so Love may wield

The Light of Life.

Brian Hick December 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 21.12.22

 876

What shall I write for Christmas Day.

          When all the world with festive cheer

         Has set aside the need to hear

A truth that might show us the way

To face the things that go awry

          Realising that this love

          Does not descend from heaven above

But radiates from those who try,

Against the vanity and greed

          Which fill our lives on working days

          To Love, even though these quieter ways

Seem impotent to the world's creed.

So I will write of love which greets,

          Unnoticed by the streaming crowds

          Whose stoic faces are too proud

To see the homeless in the street;

Of love which puts another first

          Regardless of the cost to them

          And will do the same again

For there's no end to Love's deep purse.

Of Love which does not plan ahead

          Or ask that favours be returned

          As if all gifts must be earned

Accounts rendered, contracts read

And sealed on pain of retribution

          Knowing that there is no reward

          For kindness or the loving word

Freely given in restitution.

Of Love which takes us as we are

          Unaware of faults or failure

          Unconcerned by past behaviour

Seeing nothing but the star

That shone upon us at our birth

          Bringing grace to every hour

          We breath and giving us the power

To celebrate what we are worth.

Brian Hick December 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 15.12.22

Orkney

I've always found the thought of the Trinity

Dubious if not difficult,

But on this isle the earth and sky and sea

Shimmer even as they melt

Into a singularity

Of gentleness,

Where jagged edges cease to be

And all excess

Dissolves into an ordered symmetry.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 1.4.22

 I need to spend more time with you

To listen to your peace

To seek you in the emptiness

When roaring words have ceased.

I need to spend more time with you

To hear you on the wind

To grasp the brief epiphanies

Which flash across my mind.

I ned to spend more time with you

To sense you in the needs

Of people whom I meet each day

No matter where it leads.

I need to spend more time with you

To set myself aside

Let love take over as I see

Your arms held open wide.

And as I spend more time with you

This Time itself will cease

And all I know and all I have

Will be forever peace.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 1.4.22

I spoke to Nanny Matkin

When  I was Oscar's age

Querying the Bible's facts

And though she didn't rage

She said you simply must believe -

But didn't tell me why -

The story written in The Book

That came out of the sky.

And sixty-five years later

Wandering from church to church

My mind is no clearer

I feel left in the lurch

By those demanding faithfulness

To what they cannot prove

Yet all the time ignoring

The transforming power of love.

If church is not the answer - 

For two thousand years it's failed -

Then why continue following

A Way which has entailed

So much contradiction

So many bloody ends

So many dead-end cul-de-sacs

So many dead friends?

If love is the answer

The question must be wrong

For although we go on singing

We're singing the wrong song.

Brian Hick 

©copyright Sally Hick 1.4.22

Out of the dawn you come to me

As softly as a prayer

Caught on the breeze out of the east

That sings upon the air.

Out of the dawn you come to me

Death opening into Life

As Spring, in every tiny flower,

Resolves dark Winter's strife.

Out of the dawn you come to me

With Joy my soul befriend,

Surrounding all my life with love

I know will never end.

Brian Hick April 2011

© copyright Sally Hick March 2022

 The Infant of Prague

'It's just a dressed up dolly,' you insist,

But I sense there might be another way,

Behind the baroque gold and statuary,

To read the tiny figure in the dress.

The deity above with pointed finger

Scowling at us all, as if he knows

We are all wicked and will come to blows

Left to ourselves, is light years from the figure

In the case, whose vulnerability

And child-like innocence can offer only love,

Untainted by desire, and above

The greedy factions of authority.

            It may just be a dolly, but I'd rather

            See the world through those eyes, than the other,

Brian Hick 18.1.09

©copyright S Hick January 2022